


Skin Worn Thin

by VeteranKlaus



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fainting, Forgetting to eat, Hurt/Comfort, Past Homelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeteranKlaus/pseuds/VeteranKlaus
Summary: Bad things happen bingo prompt: Forgetting to eat.It's not necessarily that he doesn't want to eat. It's just that he forgets that he can.





	Skin Worn Thin

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from my 'bad things happen bingo' card: forgetting to eat.  
> I just love angst.

When Klaus left the academy at nineteen, he didn't have a plan in mind. He pawned shit from the academy to get money to buy weed, and he spent his nights sneaking out to pop molly in raves and to get so drunk he couldn't remember his own name. He didn't have a place to go, a job to get, a goal in mind. He simply wanted out. 

Within two months everything he had taken with him when he had left was gone; pawned for money, stolen or lost. He had the clothes on his back and the joint in his hand, and still no plan. It stayed like that for the next decade. 

Being on the streets had taught Klaus a lot. It taught him how to twist words to get what he wanted. It taught him how to sneak in and out of places, how to steal an entire rack of jewellery in broad daylight without getting spotted. It taught him who sold what, how to tell spiked drugs from pure drugs, how to tell good people from bad people. It, in a way, taught him how to handle money. At the beginning, he had tried to be responsible, tried to get motel rooms to sleep in and food to eat, but he had priorities. Safety and food were not high on his list. When Klaus had a handful of money, it hardly ever went to a motel room or food, so it wasn't unusual for him to go days on end, a couple of weeks, without eating. Plus; drugs had obliterated his appetite on the streets. He didn't feel hungry when he was full of cocaine and too high to feel a thing, let alone hunger. Ben never liked that, but Klaus had hardly ever listened to Ben.

One could simply not erase a decade of habits. It was simple; it didn't matter that the apocalypse had been averted and he was living in a mansion with his siblings, that he was sober and everyone was working to be kind to one another. Five devoured food as if he'd never see it again and he fell asleep on any surface, vertical or horizontal. Diego listened to police radio every night and threw knives if you didn't knock before entering. Allison was getting her voice back and Vanya was slowly cracking out of her shell. Luther was coming to terms with the abuse Reginald dealt them all, including himself. And Klaus? Well, Klaus was making do. He was sober, he was finding his way back to Dave, and Ben was by his side throughout it all. That didn't mean that he slept as light as a feather, as if expecting to wake up to hands in his pockets, mugging him of every little possession he owned, or if he slept on the floor or a small seat because his bed was too comfortable and he was used to alleyway floors, or if he kept everything he owned on himself because he couldn't simply leave it out in the open. One thing that had slipped his mind, too, had been regularly eating meals. He'd grab a bite here and there, have dinner once and run off again. 

It had been a busy few weeks, to say the least. Vanya had been working on her powers with the help of each of them, and Klaus was proud of the progress she was making. She was still hesitant and afraid, but everyone had made an effort to support and encourage her, to build her up. Allison was still fighting to get custody of Claire and it took up most of her schedule, but it was beginning to look good for her now. Diego was trying to get a job. Klaus had been making a bigger effort to conjuring Dave, hardly leaving his bedroom at all. Unfortunately, it was largely unsuccessful.

"Hey," said Ben, voice soft. "Maybe you should take a break. You've virtually worn yourself thin this week."

Klaus groaned, dropping his head into his shaking hands. "I just -" he said, voice cracking. "I just don't get why it's not working." He let out a heavy sighs, shaking his head. He pushed his hair out of his face and forced himself to take a moment to compose himself, one of his hands sinking down to clutch at the dog tags that hung around his neck. He ran his fingers over the name engraved into the metal, eyes closing and picturing Dave's face in his mind. He let out a sad huff of breath, frowning and swallowing heavily around the growing lump in his throat. Finally, however, he forced himself to stand up, hauling himself off the cushion on his floor. He must have stood up too fast, the room swaying like a boat in a violent storm, little black dots floating around in his vision. Klaus threw a hand out to catch himself on his bed, lowering him down onto it, his legs shaking as if they couldn't hold his weight any more. His abdomen ached with a cramp that made him groan and curl in on himself. 

He tried to wait out the sudden dizziness, but it seemed to not fade at all. He felt like his entire body was made out of static, trembling like jelly on a plate, and he didn't hear whatever words were coming from Ben's mouth. It took several long, worrying moments for him to compose himself. He waved Ben off, letting out a slow exhale.

"I'm fine," he dismissed, running his clammy hands down his thighs. "I need whatever rush I can get without drugs," he joked, going to nudge Ben only for his elbow to go through him. He pursed his lips and shrugged, then stood up again, much slower this time. When the room didn't spin like a dreidel, he began to carefully make his way out of his bedroom. It wasn't overly dark outside and he could hear voices downstairs. Rubbing his tired eyes, Klaus wandered towards the staircase, one hand on the banister. He looked down the long staircase, the hallway at the end of it seeming miles below him. He took the stairs slowly, hand sliding down the banister. His thighs ached with the small exertion of lowering himself to each step, his knees shaking, and by the time he reached the bottom he felt out of breath. 

"Klaus," said Ben, eying him curiously. "What's wrong? Sit down. You look like you're about to pass out."

Klaus hummed, staring at his hands in front of him. "Yeah. I think I will," he agreed, and the ground rushed up to meet him. 

 

 

 

He woke up slowly, groggily, on his side with pain in his knees and his hips and his shoulders. He groaned, face screwing up in discomfort. There were a pair of knees in front of his face and he realised something was tapping his face. He forced his eyes upwards to meet Diego's, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes soft with concern. His lips moved silently, voice drowned out by the ringing in his ears until it eventually faded.

"What happened, Klaus?" He asked, helping him sit up slowly. More hands on him made him startle, and he realised Luther was on his other side, letting him lean on his side. 

Klaus chuckled at the question, then rested a hand on his stomach as it cramped painfully. "Uh, I passed out," he stated in a 'duh' tone. Diego rolled his eyes, and both he and Luther stood, hauling Klaus to his feet. The sudden movement made his knees disappear once more, buckling beneath him and he pitched forwards. Diego cursed, both his brothers hurrying to grab him and keep him upright. 

"Well, obviously. Are you sick? We've barely seen you in ages," he said. Klaus fisted one hand in Luther's trench coat, the other going around Diego's shoulders. 

"Nah," he said, shaking his head and regretting it. The two of them guided him into the kitchen, lowering him onto a dining chair, and Klaus huffed a breath. He rested his hands on the table, blinking a few times. Then he realised something as he sat down at the dining table. "Oh," he said, and Ben glared at him. "I need to eat." 

Luther raised an eyebrow. "Is... is that it? You've not eaten?" He asked. Klaus let out a hesitant laugh.

"I forgot," he confirmed. 

"It's been over a week, Klaus," spluttered Diego, eyes comically wide. Klaus shrugged.

"I forgot," he repeated with an innocent grin. Luther sighed.

"I'll go get Grace," he said, ducking out of the room, and Diego leaned against the table, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Klaus," he said, voice low, "are you okay? How do you - how do you just _forget_?" He asked incredulously. Klaus hummed, leg bouncing absentmindedly. 

"I was busy," he defended, holding up his unsteady hands. "It just... slipped my mind." He made a little gesture by his head, offering a grin. Then he shrugged. "Old habits die hard, brother dear." He glanced back as Luther returned, Grace walking by his side. She came over, setting a hand on his shoulder and then on his forehead. 

"Oh, dear. Your brother told me what happened. I'll make you something to eat," she told him, squeezing his shoulder and then stepping off to the kitchen. 

"What do you mean, old habits?" Echoed Diego, and Luther raised an eyebrow. Klaus fiddled with the hem of his mesh shirt, pressing his lips together and pouting childishly. 

"Who needs food on the streets when you have drugs, huh?" He said light heartedly, drumming his fingers along the table and glancing away. He waved his hand dismissively, watching Grace in the kitchen. "Don't worry about it. I'm here now!" 

"Klaus -"

"Oh, that looks great! Thanks, mom," Klaus said, eagerly taking the offered bowl of soup and buttered bread, taking a large whiff of it. He ignored Diego and Luther, forcing himself to eat slowly as to not aggravate his stomach too badly. He pretended to not feel Ben's eyes on him, or Diego's, or Luther's. It was a simple slip up in his old habits, nothing more. One couldn't simply erase a decade of living always on an empty stomach. 


End file.
